Although the Grand Esplanade is centered on a double lane for ground vehicles and carriages, the majority of the broad street is held for pedestrian use. Smooth pavement extends out around planters that keep vehicle traffic away from people on foot, exposing a broad expanse to the feet of passers by.

The Esplanade leads past scores of little hole-in-the-wall shops and kiosks selling everything from daggers to scarves to jewelry. Light posts are interspersed with the planters, casting a warm glow over the Esplanade at night, while electrostatic shields blur the skies but keep off any rain from above, leaving the Esplanade crowded day or night, rain or shine.

Towering over the Esplanade to the west is the shimmering steel spire of the Citadel, while the Gardens of Erkwin and the Landing Stadium lie to the east. Directly north is the magnificent Palace Towers, seat of House Sauveur.

14 June 3013

Michael's stroll alone -

As the storm from earlier carried on into the late afternoon, Michael stopped home to pick up his over cloak. As he now walks the Grand Esplanade in silence, he seems to curiously examine a few items here and there.

Michael stops at the window to a small cafe, and looks at the today's special menu. Taking note of the pricings, he smiles and nods. Then he passes on to a kiosk selling a variety of knives, and stops to take a look.

Michael inquires after a knife of particular design. It has a ten inch blade, but the more interesting thing about it is that it has a sword break. The blade itself is fully serrated and looks monomolecular, with a sweeping point. He examines the blade for a moment, inquires about the price then sets it down and thanks the vendor before walking away.

The storm contiues to rage and makes the electrostatic shielding's job harder. Michael moves into a small shop that sells a variety of bags from small belt pouches, to larger rucksacks. He takes a look at one of the larger rucksacks, a black and red leather one, and checks with the clerk for the pricing. Finding the pricing agreeable, Michael then purchases the bag and exits the shop.

Michael continues along his walk at a slow pace. He seems to be reflecting on what happened earlier in the day, when his stomach protests so loudly Obsidia must have heard it. Blushing in slight embarrasment, Michael walks into a nearby store and purchases some simple fare. A roll, some simple cheese, and a strip of salted meat. He takes a seat on a planter, and eats quietly. His gaze distant and introspective.

Michael finishes chewing a bite of the salted meat, and looks around. A small stand next to him sells fresh juices, so he purchases a cup of watered down lemon juice. He casts his gaze out over the Esplanade, taking in the surroundings. He comments softly to himself, "I'll miss this place when I'm in my soon to be new home." with that he takes another bite of the meat and then a chunk of roll.

Jor enters from the Ways -

You might not think that just recently a horse-drawn carriage went wild and nearly ran over an individual in the upper echelons of society. Some individuals might be thinking about it, and in truth Jor Aeldan is one of them. He's bundled up against the weather. Despite having been on the receiving end of 'something nicer' to wear, he's still dressed up in attire that is a bit stale by comparison to current fashion trends. He's got a hat on, too, brimmed to deal with the rain, and held against the flare-ups of wind.

And as it happens, he could use a bit to drink even though one really only needs to just open their mouth and aim at the sky. "Orange, please," is his order. You're given a glance, the vestige of a nod of acknowledgement.

Michael returns the nod of the bundled up man. "I'd say good afternoon, but that's a bit inaccurate at the present." He rises from his seat on the planter, and packs away what's left of his simple meal.

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?" While he's waiting for oranges to undergo that process of liquid extraction, Jor folds his thick arms and regards you a bit more. No need to hold the hat down just yet, so his hands are free, enough so that he can absently scratch at the stubble erupting along the line of his chin. "I can't say I was too happy to see that the weather cast was for rain and worse.

"Thanks," he offers to the vendor, funds transferred over just before liquid vitamin C goes into his lips. You, he studies again, eyeing the rucksack for a brief instant.

"I was caught off guard by it earlier this morning. Luckily I found a warm place to sit for a while." he comments as he buckles a front pouch, in the shuffle of movement he makes to run his arms through the straps causes the light armor plating of his arms to show, as well as the hilt of a sword on his right. After adjusting the straps of the rucksack, and then his cloak. He turns to regard you for a moment, the flicker of being impressed dances in his eyes as they move from shoulders to arms to chest.

There's a hint of amusement in those eyes, but there's a considerable interest in the fact you're carrying a weapon around. Jor's attention focuses on that hilt, not minding at all the fact that he's doing so so openly.

"Sir?" he asks, the question asked with a slight tilt of his head towards the weapon. "I assume as much, since you don't look like a member of the Watch. Forgive me, if I'm mistaken, I was just curious."

Michael smiles lightly, but shakes his head slightly. "Not yet a Sir, hopefully soon though. I am squire to Young Lady Sir Johana Ibrahm, as of this morning in that warm place I mentioned." he chuckles softly at something he must have remembered. When we speaks again, its slightly forlorn but tinged with hope. "I am wearing my gear as I'll be leaving Landing soon, and it's also warmer than my normal casual attire."

There's a faint hint of a frown that creases this man's lips. The reason why comes out soon enough. "How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" The juice is lifted to his mouth right after, creases in his forehead emerging further as his brows draw together due to that frown. "You seem older than I would have expected a squire, so perhaps I have your age wrong," the as of yet nameless man explains in his bass voice.

Michael nods, "You are correct that I am far older than most squires. I am twenty-four currently, and most of the squires I grew up with are now considering taking on squires of their own." a shadow flicks across his eyes, but it's gone in the same instant. "I am Michael Athyros, as I said recent squire to Sir Johana Ibrahm." he makes a polite bow of his head. "May I ask your name?"

"Jor Aeldan," is the reply. "I know of other squires who took their time receiving their spurs; there's no cause for shame. If anything, I will wager it comes sooner than later." A brief pause for a drink, to go with a significant look. "Regardless, everyone will be needed for what's to come. Focus more on what you can do towards that, and you may find your independance comes quicker than you think, I think."

Michael smiles as he nods in agreement. "My squiring to Sir Johana is to replace my old mentor, now passed, her soul walk the other plane in peace." The look in his eyes takes on determination, "I will work hard, and train hard, and fight hard, for and with Sir Johana. It is my hope to gain my knighthood from combat against the coming tide." he nods once with the last words.

"Then I need say nothing more." It's at that point that the man who introduced himself as Jor Aeldan glances out at the downpour, a faint grimace twisting his lips at its continued state, despite the fact it hasn't changed an ounce since he, too, took partial shelter. "I have plenty to say about this, however," he continues, a brief gesture towards the weather.

Michael laughs softly and nods his agreement. He then glances at the obscured sky through the electrostatic shielding. "I'm curious how weather on the Cresent will be, I've never been there." After a moment though, he tilts his head and a faint static click can be heard. "It seems I am needed at home soon."

"Something to research, then." A faint hint of amusement breaks the otherwise stoic cast of Jor's features, but in the end he gives a sigh and adjusts the hat on his head, turning his attention once again to the rain. "You're needed at home, and I'll doubtless be melting. A good to you, Michael."

Michael smiles, and offers that same bow of his head. "And a good day to you Mister Aeldan." With that he slightly adjusts his rucksack and walks off in the direction of the Ways.